2:11 (1976) 10, Trafalgar House

24 Friday Jun 2016

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The days since my birthday had flown by and although I had done a lot of preparation there still seemed to be loads to do. Day by day I’d been buying things I felt we would need like cutlery, plates, bedding and stuff but I was pretty certain there was still other stuff I just couldn’t think what. The problem was that in married quarters you are supplied with everything and so I didn’t want to buy things if I didn’t absolutely have to. Writing that I sound quite mercenary or tight but I’m not really, we just didn’t have spare cash. In the end I decided that as long as we had the basics to get by we could shop again when Carol arrived because I’d got several days leave booked.
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What I did realise (going backward and forwards to the flat) was the downside – our flat was several floors up, almost at the top of the building, and if a fit serviceman like me found that challenging then it was going to be a nightmare for Carol with a pram and a toddler. Hopefully (I thought) it wouldn’t be long before there was movement again and we got a Naval caravan without too long a wait. On the upside we’d probably both prefer to manage the issues than be separated any longer than we needed to be.


(Postcard of St.Michael’s Cabin, Gibraltar when it was a restaurant. Notice the musicians.

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Back in 1976 St.Michael’s Cabin was one of the most romantic little restaurants in Gibraltar situated half way up the Rock overlooking the dockyard, the Town and the small coastal town of La Linea, Spain; I’d gone up there in the evenings to check it out and the views were to die for so I booked a table for the very evening Carol was arriving. (Sadly today it isn’t open evenings and only does snack food for tourists during the day which to me is a crying shame and a very sad decline of a wonderful resource). Once I’d booked the table I arranged a female baby sitter through the Naval Wives Club (who was confident with a baby and a toddler) so finally (I thought) things were starting to come together.
*

On the day before Carol was due to arrive I decided to go up town and buy her and the children presents. Quite a lot of the shops in those days sold those leather goods and ornaments from Morocco but that wasn’t really what I was looking for. In the end I decided on teddy bears and eventually found three in different sizes and colours that I liked. Tomorrow I would take them to the airport.

2:10 (1976) My 21st birthday on the lash in Gibraltar

23 Thursday Jun 2016

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The 4th May 1976 was my 21st birthday and as always I was the envy of ‘Trekkies’ everywhere (May the Fourth be with You) even though I wasn’t particularly a fan. What I was a fan of though was the fact I was 13 days younger than Carol and revelled in being her ‘Toy Boy’ for almost two weeks every year (much to the delight of the children – particularly when Carol would physically show her disapproval by clouding me around the ear).

On the big 21 day I received a humongous card with loads of kisses, messages and handprints from the children and Carol (which I still treasure); I also received a telegram which was hand delivered to me by the ‘heavies’ – Naval Security?

img_3907-2 img_3908-2


(My 21st birthday card. And a pik with me five minutes ago – how organic is that?)

Bemused why the ‘heavies’ had delivered the telegram I opened it up under their watchful eye and was delighted to get a ‘Happy Birthday’ message from Carol and a confirmation that she and the children would be arriving on 13 May 1976 – what I couldn’t have known then was that exactly 40 years later to the day (13 May 2016) I would finally return to Gibraltar – but then that’s a story for Chapter 3. As for why it was the ‘heavies’ who delivered the telegram I’d have to wait until Carol’s arrival because no-one was forthcoming with an explanation. Later, when I eventually did find out and make sense of the implications, I was outraged.

(My birthday telegram and confirmation of my family’s arrival date)

Since my arrival in Gibraltar my main focus had been finding a flat and settling into my job; I hadn’t really been out drinking or anything because I had very little money and also needed to keep my drink problem at bay. But on my 21st Birthday my colleagues were having none of that and insisted in taking me out on the lash. Needless to say the only thing I remember about any of it was that I (evidently) got totally’ rat-arsed but (to both Carol’s delight and mine) the lads looked after me throughout and then put me into my own bed at the end of the night. What was a lovely touch was Brian (my P.O.) let me sleep it off the following day and if I remember rightly I finally returned to work on May 5th. I also realised my family was arriving in 12 days!!!! Eeeeeek. I had work to do.

2:9 (1976) FamPass signalled. I didn’t know whether to scream with delight or bawl my eyes out.

20 Monday Jun 2016

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Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick and when it does you make a choice. The easiest one for me right now was to take a break, ease the pressure and go have a night on the lash; do the Hole in the Wall, Tivoli, Main Street, the Buccaneer. And why not, that’s how I roll? 

But no that’s not how I roll. Not anymore. Especially not now as a family man with three people depending on me; and I never was one to take the easy option anyway. I hadn’t told Carol about the Angry Friar flat so at least I didn’t have any explaining to do. What I did do was give myself a good talking to, stopped being a wimp feeling sorry for myself and focused on being positive.

On Carol’s birthday I phoned her and although it was (always) difficult for us both hearing the other on the phone it was good to hear she was okay and that Graham and Kerrie were looking after her. Geordies are very good at looking after people although they did have a few bizarre customs I knew Carol would be exposed to; much later I had to smile when Carol told me about a ‘pickled egg eating competition’ she had with Graham on her birthday evening. Even though it was a very difficult separation for her I loved that she retained a few happy and funny memories.

(Trafalgar House Gibraltar – My photo 1976)

Not long after I had given myself that good talking to a game changer happened. Someone living in Edinburgh House had left Gibraltar and returned to UK which meant that his married quarter was now vacant. As a result another sailor who had been living in a Naval caravan could now move into that mans married quarter. Naturally a third sailor who had been living in a private flat up town was then able to move into the vacant caravan which meant ‘Bingo’ I could have his private let – and because it not long been passed by the Navy the inspection was swift and it passed again!!! Don’t you just love evolution? I immediately applied for 10, Trafalgar House, got it then sent Carol a telegram; it was 23 April 1976, two days after her 21st birthday BOOM!!! 

(Telegram to Carol 23 April 1976)

Even after finding the flat, paying a hefty deposit and informing the Navy the protocol of having a FamPass signalled to the UK took another week and still didn’t give a clear date when my family would arrive (though they did estimate 10-13 May) but that was irrelevant and neither here nor there really because the reality was that my family would be with me within weeks. I didn’t know whether to scream with delight or bawl my eyes out. I treated myself to a walk.

(Telegram to Carol 30 April 1976)

As I sat in Alameda gardens admiring my new home-to-be I realised the view from the window looked straight out over …..Alameda gardens! Words fail me.

2:8 (1976) When the second flat failed inspection I was on the floor, hurting.

19 Sunday Jun 2016

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I can’t remember where the first flat I found was but it failed the Navy’s test and I was devastated; I’d already written to Carol and told her I’d found that place so now I had to write again to give her the bad news. For some reason best known to myself I thought that any reasonable flat I found would pass but it turns out I was quite naive. If I remember rightly the assessors took into account family dynamics and were aware we had an infant in the family so if a place was even remotely damp it would be failed. 
(Alameda Botanical Gardens Gibraltar)

Mindful of my vulnerability towards alcohol I decided not to drown my sorrows; it wouldn’t solve anything or get my family over quicker even though the temptation to get ‘mortal’ was pervasive. Instead I decided to ‘get straight back on the horse’ and find another flat so that when I wrote home I could at least say to Carol (that although the first flat failed) “keep your spirits up because there’s another in the pipeline”. Meanwhile between my searches I’d walk around and spend time in Alameda Gardens and imaginine doing just that on Sunday mornings with my family when they arrived. There’s many places all over Gibraltar that are so peaceful and restful and where a mind in turmoil can be restored to calm; among those I’d include the Mediterranean Steps and Europa Point but right up there with them (for me) is Alameda.

(Door to flat above Angry Friar, Main Street Gibraltar)

The second flat I found was above the Angry Friar pub off Convent Place with an entrance on Main Street; the door is to the left of what is now the Imperial Newsagency. I thought the location of the flat would be good for Carol to feel in the middle of the community with lots of resources nearby such as Liptons and Marks and Spencer although she would still have to negotiate a pram up and down one flight of stairs. After the last failure I decided to not tell Carol when the inspection was because I didn’t want her getting her hopes up (again) only to be let down. When I knew the flat had passed its inspection I would treat us both to a phone call so that we could literally share the moment. 

My daughter Samantha

Around the time I was waiting to hear news of the flat we had become really busy at work as there were a lot of ships passing through Gibraltar so I needed to apply myself to my work. I was also aware from her letters that everything wasn’t all rosy for Carol back in UK although it was evidently ‘nothing for me to worry about, concern myself with or that she wasn’t able to deal with’ although as Sam was a newborn it didn’t stop me worrying. After Carol arrived on the Rock I found none of that to be the case and that issues she was having to manage were very serious but that her main focus had been to not upset me or compromise my situation which may delay things. Later (in this chapter) when I became more aware of things in Newcastle I would make major decisions that would directly affect both my career and my families future life but for now I had to (nervously) accept what I’d been told.

When the flat above the Angry Friar failed the inspection I was on the floor, hurting.

2:7 (1976) I loved Gibraltar but now wanted my family with me

18 Saturday Jun 2016

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Just outside Rooke Barracks on Queensway is Edinburgh House, the colony of married quarters where all married servicemen serving in Gibraltar aspired to live. It’s a place that I thought (when I revisited Gibraltar 40 years later) may have been demolished but was delighted to find it hadn’t been and even more delighted to have a long chat with the present day incumbent – though that story is really for Chapter 3 (2016). Before I could have a married quarter I would first need to get to the top of the waiting list which from what I could gather was about three months long but there was no way I was going to wait three months to see my family again and so the search for a private letting began. 
(Stock photo Main Street Gibraltar early 1970s)

Although I knew Gibraltar well enough to find my way around I had no idea where to find an estate agent offering rentals and so at the first opportunity I hit the town on a mission to suss them out. In those days the hub, or epicentre of Gibraltar was John Mackintosh Square known locally as the Piazza and was a place (in months to come) I would often take my children at the weekends because it was very social and there was always something going on there; these days I think the place to be is Casemates Square.

(Stock photo John Mackintosh Square or the ‘Piazza’ Gibraltar early 1970s)

As Gibraltar is such a small place it isn’t long before everyone knows everything about everybody and there’s a part of me loves that and finds it very endearing. I suppose you could argue that such a Grapevine lifestyle borders on a lack of privacy but on the other hand when put in the balance it is also an incredible support system within the community. (It often makes me smile how on Twitter now the Gibraltar community still know each other and almost everything about each other – Please feel free to join me on Twitter if you want to – @spailpinfanac).


On the first occasion I went up town I decided to start with a drink in the Piazza and looking back I must have stood out like a sore thumb because clearly the locals recognised me as a ‘new arrival probably wanting a rental’. I don’t think I’d had a sip of my drink before being offered to check out an apartment and from that moment on I didn’t need to look for an estate agent. I certainly didn’t mind that and though I knew it was in their interests they also knew it was in mine; but I also sincerely believed they wanted to help me and so I found their approach very supportive.


After talking to local people I felt a real sense of hope that I might be able to get a place fairly quickly; it was Carol’s 21st birthday coming up on the 21st April and the idea of sending her a FamPass as a present really inspired me to push on; the photos on my bunk wall were also a constant inspiration. I loved my job and I loved Gibraltar but now I wanted my family with me.

2:6 (1976) I had the best job in the world in the best place in the world. Gibraltar.

17 Friday Jun 2016

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Younger readers might find it impossible to imagine life without instant and constant communication with their family, friends and loved ones but here we are talking 1976; there was no such thing as Internet or social networks, there was no such thing as emails or mobile phones. Phoning home meant standing in a queue outside a phone box with a load of coins in your hand hoping that the line was clear and the person you were calling was ready outside their phone box. 

Phoning home from abroad could be an absolute nightmare and so the real deal was airmail. Writing letters and receiving replies is very much a dying art now and (in my humble opinion) a very big loss to the social fabric of life but back then it was a lifeline. To spend time and effort writing a letter to someone showed a real element of care for that person and the excitement of receiving a reply could never be understated, it was a clear message that someone cared equally about you. I guess still having all of my letters after 40 years and virtually none of my emails from yesterday says it all – and yes, I often read them 🙂

Although my highest personal priority was to find a flat and have it pass the inspection I also had a responsibility to my job in the Royal Navy. After posting my first letter home I immediately applied myself to my new role which was to die for; I was really proud to have my HMS Rooke cap tally (the photo is my actual cap). Readers will recall how (in Chapter 1) I envied the Stores Team working in Gibraltar as I watched them storing my ship (HMS Scylla) knowing I was leaving the Rock and now I was on that very team storing other people’s ships (I had to keep pinching myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming). My job in a nut shell was receiving orders (known in the RN as ‘demands’) from warships due to dock at Gibraltar and make sure they were on the quayside when the ship arrived. Since some things had to be ordered from UK and other countries it was quite a challenging job but one with a great sense of satisfaction when it all went well. To not meet a ships ‘demands’ was not an option as it is always assumed that the ship could go to war at anytime and so whatever they wanted, they got. 


(Above a stock photo)

Back in those days the Royal Navy was a lot bigger than it is now and many ships came through Gibraltar on their way out to the Far East or on their way back so our small team had to be very much on the ball – especially when the big boys (Ark Royal, Hermes) came through. To go back to that ‘nut shell’ I had the best job in the world, in the best place in the world and so was on top of the world – well nearly, but I would be when my family arrived 🙂

(Above a stock photo)

The Stores Office was the first building on the right as you passed through Rooke’s Main Gate and (as already mentioned) it was in there that I had my desk – the very same desk, in the very same office, now being sat at by a Gibraltar Police department policeman. Couldn’t make that up. Even just writing that put me right back there with Brian, Phil and Sandy; I pictured exactly where we all sat and even the photos we had on our desks. If the stupidest things make people emotional that sentence just did me.

2:5 (1976) Being back in Gibraltar I felt a familiar calm

15 Wednesday Jun 2016

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Although I’d been to Gibraltar twice I’d never flown in before and so hadn’t been aware (until a few minutes before arriving by plane) that it was a notoriously bumpy landing; if I’d known that beforehand I wouldn’t have been disappointed – good job I didn’t have false teeth!
But once my vibrating body had calmed down I was thrilled to be back. As the plane doors opened I felt the warmth of the climate and when I stepped out and saw the Rock I just stopped dead at the top of the steps to take it all in. Within an instant I felt a familiar calm.


(Above a stock photo from 1976)

Transport from HMS Rooke had been sent to pick me up and as we drove from the airport to Rooke Barracks my eyes were all over the place spotting familiar places, landmarks and streets. Recently (in 2016) when I made a similar journey from the airport to the town centre I just about managed to still spot a few familiar places (e.g Edinburgh House) although because of modern developments it wasn’t easy; by contrast today (1976) I recognised loads and I loved that.

Arriving at Rooke some of the first people I met (after security) were my new work colleagues since part of our role (in stores) was to issue bedding etc to new arrivals; within a few minutes I had met my new Petty Officer Brian, a Leading Rate Sandy (who would become a good friend) and Phil, one of the Jack Dusty’s who would become quite a regular baby sitter. Forgive me for ‘again’ drifting back to my recent visit (I will try to curb doing that) but when I visited Rooke Barracks in 2016 it was very bizarre seeing my old office building now being used by the Gibraltar Police. I almost got to see my old desk by peering through the gate but decided I had better move on because I was starting to look a bit suspicious.

After collecting my bedding Phil took me down to the mess deck where I claimed an empty bunk and sat down. At this time I had no idea how long I would be in barracks or how long it would take me to find a flat and get it passed by the Navy so that I could get my FamPass. Looking at my single bunk was a massive reality check; the journey was over, the anticipation was over, the excitement was subsiding and my family were hundreds of miles away. All of a sudden I felt as though I’d been hit with a sledge hammer. I think Phil (bless him) picked up on how I must have been feeling and bade a quiet ‘Catch you later then’ before closing the door behind him. 

I’ve realised with age when I feel very emotional I have a profound need to either write or draw or even sometimes pick up my guitar and sing. Today I absolutely needed to write to Carol because I knew in doing that I would be with her, talking to her. It took many hours and many tears to write that first letter.

2:4 (1976) Touch down in Gibraltar felt like landing in a ploughed field

14 Tuesday Jun 2016

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After handing in the house keys we boarded the coach for Newcastle; it would nearly nine years before I had a driving licence and so coaches and buses would become our main source of travel. When we arrived it was lovely to see my sister again; even though
we had been separated and
brought up hundreds of miles apart as children we had reattached as adults and I was so thankful for that. I think that experience very much fed into my current concerns of being separated from my family and the need to ensure it was as short as possible.

For many years now I’ve worked in children’s services and over that time have become increasingly aware of not just the importance of attachment between children to their primary care givers (usually their parents) but also some of the perinatal issues that new mothers experience (e.g severe depression). At 20, I knew nothing of such things but if I had I would not have left my daughter at ten days old or indeed my wife so soon after having given birth. I’m sorry if some of that sounds a bit clinical, it isn’t my intention to be so or repeat similar writing; it’s just something I felt the need to include in order to explain my feelings.


Whilst in the North East I was able to take Carol and the children to meet my foster Dad, Billy, who was (by now) resident at Hunters Moor Hospital, Spittal Tongues, Newcastle following (as mentioned in Chapter 1) three strokes. The last time I saw him was about a year previous when I went north on leave to try to encourage him with his physio but he was having none of it. Whenever I tried to help him with his exercises to straighten his leg he would use foul language and lash out at me; he wasn’t one of those people who wanted to get back up into life again and so the hospital had moved their focus and energies on to people who did. As a result he had now become wheelchair bound and dependent on others for most of his needs. 


What was awesome though was that he loved the children and really took to them, in particular Tracey and made a lot of effort with her which I loved. There was something really delightful seeing them happily interacting with each other; seeing him in his grandad role almost let me forgive the fact that he was pretty emotionally absent as a dad. As the of day visiting my Dad came to a close so too did the week and after really difficult goodbyes to my family it wasn’t long before I found myself sitting on a plane which was preparing to take off. 

I don’t remember which airport I left from but (as always) I do remember the thoughts going round in my head….’they’re all safe and being looked after, they will be back with me before I know it, I’ll start looking for a flat as soon as I land….’. As the plane’s engines revved higher and higher Bowie’s Space Oddity began taking over my thoughts (and still does today whenever I board a plane); ‘Ground control to Major Tom…’. 

When the revving had got to the point that I thought the plane would explode it felt as though the pilot just let the clutch out and sent us hurtling down the runway and up into the air. A few hours later our touch down in Gibraltar (after a sharp turn to stay out of Spanish air space) felt like we were landing in a ploughed field

     

2:3 (1976) Life was now a surreal mixture of anxiety and excitement

13 Monday Jun 2016

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Our house in Gosport was a private let owned by the Dame Elizabeth Kelly Trust which accommodated servicemen and their families who (for whatever reason) couldn’t get a married quarter. It was a small terraced house with a back garden that Tracey was able to play in safely and nearby was a park where we often took her.
After Carol came home we needed to discuss and decide where she and the children would stay until I got a Family Passage (FamPass) and it wasn’t easy; I had to know they were safe and would be looked after but at the same time had no choice but to consider cost. Eventually it was agreed they would stay with my sister Kerrie and her husband Graham in Newcastle; of all of my three sisters Kerrie was the one I was closest to and she was also very laid back which I thought would be good for Carol and the children. Kerrie lived in Rowlands Gill in the same house she had been brought up in as a child. Her husband Graham could appear loud at times but Carol would find that during her stay there he was an absolute diamond whenever problems arose.


Meanwhile in Gosport we had a few days to kill before giving in the house keys and going North during which we made a big fuss of Tracey as she got know her new sister; Carol encouraged her to help her tend Sam’s needs, getting clothes and nappies ready or joining her for a walk while I gave her loads of praise for being a brilliant big sister.


It’s difficult to put into words the mixture of anxiety and excitement we both felt knowing that our lives would be changing in less than a week when I would fly to Gibraltar not knowing when my family would follow; life was very surreal as we continued with normal things. 


One of the hardest things for me was Tracey’s bedtime routine, particularly reading her story and knowing that next week I couldn’t and didn’t even know when I could again. (*That particular thought came to me ‘this very evening 13/6/2016’ as I was reading my granddaughter Rhiannon, age 8, her bedtime story – Jungle Book); memories for me are far more powerful than words. 


As I look at these (fabulously, yellowy, organic) old photos of those days I’m right back there; I can feel the tension but more importantly I can feel the love and I treasure that. I don’t remember which story I read to Tracey on our last night in Gosport but I do know how I felt when I read it. At the end of the story I kissed her goodnight and said “Tomorrow sweetheart we’re going to see Auntie Kerrie X “.

2:2 (1976) My daughter would be 10 days old when I flew DanAir on 11 April.

12 Sunday Jun 2016

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Our daughter Samantha Catherine was born on 31st March; she very nearly ended up as a Melanie on account of me quite taking to that name; I saw it on a hairdressers shop from the bus window as I was on my way to the hospital. Probably a good job I didn’t call her Melanie though because when I told Carol later she said she would have gone berserk. Sam’s second name, Catherine, was after my foster mother. 

One blessing about Sam’s birth date (since we were so broke) was that she was born on the very last day of the financial year which (back then) meant we were in line for a tax rebate. Meanwhile as a gift for Carol I did a serious ‘man’ thing – that I’ve never heard the last of (and probably never will and probably quite right too – not just from Carol but also my daughters); I bought her a present for having Samantha – a Marguerite Patten Cook Book. In mitigation I told Carol she made fabulous puddings but that didn’t wash; fortunately it wouldn’t be long before my tax rebate would arrive and I was able to redeem myself. (Have to say though I did get many a dandy pudding) 🙂 


It was a few days before Carol and Sam were allowed home which gave me a little time with Tracey on her own; although I think she was thrilled to have a little sister we didn’t want her feeling left out in anyway. Big changes were afoot and we needed her to feel secure through the process. During little outings to the park and other places I was able to have the kind of conversations that Carol and I felt she needed – ‘When Mummy brings Sam home she will need you to help her sometimes because you’re a big girl now’. Looking back parenting for us was really hard since we had no role models or extended family support, we literally had to make it up as we went along and hope for the best. It’s almost surreal that forty odd years later part of my current social care role is to support parents with their parenting.


When Carol and Sam finally arrived home it was lovely that we were all together for the first time, I loved having my own family. Underneath the idyllic surface though was this feeling of a sort of impending doom before paradise could come. We had very little money and lived quite isolated in a (non-married quarter) private let in Gosport which meant we had to take the ferry anytime we wanted to go to Portsmouth. We couldn’t get a married quarter because we were going abroad. Having said that whatever concerns we had were very much diluted by the fact we had each other (and our beautiful children) and had bonded very strongly. 

One of the lovely things we did do that brightened our days was to sit down and anticipate our new life in Gibraltar and talk about what it would be like; Carol loved the idea of a sunny climate because she liked a tan and Tracey couldn’t wait to see the apes, it was so nice for us all to have that hope and a future to look forward to even though there were still challenges ahead to overcome.


Gibraltar is a very small nation and (in 1976) with quite a large military presence accommodation was of a premium, there were waiting lists for married quarters. As a result the serviceman (me) had to travel to Gibraltar in advance and either wait for a married quarter before the family could follow or acquire a private let. If going for a private let the property had to be inspected and passed by the Navy. Regardless, we didn’t want any unnecessary separation and so agreed that I would look for a private let. 
It wasn’t long before my flight tickets arrived; I’d be flying DanAir on 11 April when Sam was ten days old.